Cloud Nine
by Sincerely Tiffany
Summary: Jay Halstead, a hardened detective and an all around workaholic. He doesn't have many friends. He doesn't date or go out. He doesn't need anyone. At least, that's what he always believed. That is, until he's hurt on the job. It's not a big deal. It's minor. It's nothing a little massage wouldn't fix; a massage that not only works out the tension in his arm but in his heart as well.


Halstead leaned his back against the brick building, sunglasses not only protecting the sun from his eyes but obscuring his identity so he'll blend in with everyone around him. His leather jacket is zipped up to hide the badge he has dangling around his neck. His holstered weapon is hidden by the wall and the way in which he is leaning against it. He chews the gum in his mouth, blowing a bubble so big that it eventually pops on its own, "I see him," he hears Dawson in his ear piece, "I need you to look to your right, across the street at the corner. Red shoes, black jeans, long coat."

He spots him.

He buries his hands in his pockets and starts to casually walk in the direction of their suspect. He doesn't look behind him to make sure his partner is following, he knows Dawson is on his heel, he can sense it after being partners with the guy for four years. He's been friends with him for nearly ten. He trusts the man with his life and with the lives of everyone he loves. That list is pretty short but the sentiment is there. The trust is still there too.

"I'll approach from the right, you the left."

Dawson gives a subtle nod to indicate he heard and agrees with the direction. The two of them looking both ways before crossing the street. He separates from his partner, Dawson breaking away to circle around and approach from the left. Their suspect spots Jay; so much for the sunglasses and hiding his badge and he breaks off into a sprint, "He's running," Halstead rolls his eyes.

His partner scoffs in the earpiece, knowing the only reason their suspect started running was because he spotted Halstead, "…in what direction?"

"East, he's crossing the street." Halstead starts to run. He easily maneuvers through the crowd of people because he's done this more than a hundred times. Suspects like to run apparently, whether innocent or guilty, they always seem to run. Oh well, it keeps him in shape.

He doesn't know where Dawson is but that doesn't stop him from picking up speed, from enlarging his steps because he doesn't want to lose sight of the guy's bright red shoes. Stupid to wear them when you're a wanted man but hey, smart criminals didn't typically get caught. He didn't like smart criminals; they made his job much more difficult than it needed to be. Jay bumps into the shoulder of a man dressed in a suit and tie -maybe he wasn't as good as dodging people as he thought- and he doesn't even bother shouting an apology because he's too focused on his guy.

Halstead speeds up, running through a group of tourists that didn't get out of his way in time, ignoring their curses and shouts of disapproval. He sees him up ahead, he sees those red shoes and they dip into an alleyway. He doesn't slow down, despite knowing the alley leads to a dead end, instead he speeds up, ready for this to be over so he can get the inevitable paperwork portion out of the way. He runs, practically sprints to the alley, turning the corner to enter it when a metal pipe swings forward, making impact with his leg, "Fuck."

He falls back, a muscle pulled and a wave of shock shooting through his arm the second he lands on top of it. And their suspect would have gotten away if it wasn't for Dawson blocking his path, entering the alley just as their guy throws the pipe to the ground and tries to take off towards the dead end, "Where are you going? You can't go out that way."

"What is all of this about detectives?" He looks around, searching for a way out, another route to make his escape but the only way out of the alley is the same way in and both detectives are currently blocking it. Halstead ignores the pain in his shoulder and leg and drags himself to his feet, anger and frustration shooting through his bloodstream and he really wants to take it out on this guy but the one thing he knows about Dawson is he's not going to just watch and let him.

"Hunter," he moves towards him; every step he takes, reminding him of the pipe that probably left a bruise on his leg. He approaches until he's standing next to Dawson. And his partner is almost as nervous as Hunter is about what he'll do.

"Jay, man, I'm innocent, I swear man, I'm innocent, so innocent, very innocent," Hunter dropped to his knees, hands up in the air, surrendering after leading them on a chase, "I'm your CI remember, I got the inside scoop, I'll tell you what you need to know."

"You do realize that being my CI doesn't give you a pass to break more than ten laws."

Halstead reads him his rights.

Dawson withdraws his cuffs before grabbing Hunter by one arm, lowering it behind his back before bringing the other arm to join it. He wraps the cuffs around his wrists, tightening them not because he has to but because he wants to; the guy shouldn't have led them on such a long chase. He pulls Hunter to his feet and pushes him forward, "You alright?" He stops in front of his partner, watching as he rubbed his shoulder and gave him a nod of the head that Dawson could clearly see through.

* * *

Many names he's been called in his line of work: a hardened detective, rough around the edges and his favorite one of them all, a hard-ass. It doesn't bother him. A lot of things don't bother him because he's seen a lot and experienced more than the average person and when you become so numb that the world will have to shift on its axis to move you, then little, petty names like that will never get to him. He doesn't have many friends -Antonio Dawson being the only one he'd even consider hanging out with outside of work for maybe a drink or to watch a sports game once every couple of months. He doesn't have time for relationships; he's completely given up on the idea of starting one because the few ones he had in the past ended due to his career.

His job always came first. He's a workaholic and that doesn't leave any time for relationships. His brother has tried to set him up on blind dates many times in the past and none of them work out. It never once made it past a a first date. And some of the dates, he gets so caught up at his job that he honestly forgot about it, leaving the woman sitting alone at a table reserved by his brother.

It's no point in even trying. His joy doesn't come from that. It comes from working, closing cases and getting justice for families and loved ones. That's what he likes to do. Jay is the first to work and the last to leave. He likes to work, even during his days off or when he clocks out, he brings a current casefile home with him. It's good reading material. And it's been like that since he joined the Intelligence Unit years ago and nothing will change that. He doesn't need anything or anyone else, that is until he walks into work the next day trying to hide the pain in his upper arm.

"No Halstead," his sergeant shakes his head, pointing back in the direction Jay just came from, "I can tell you're not at full strength today. You're hurt. Dawson told me about what happened yesterday. Take a day, maybe two, get yourself together."

Personal leave, Jay rolls his eyes at the thought of it because it's something he rarely ever takes, it's pointless to him. So many unfinished cases, so many crimes being committed, to take a day off means justice not being served and more people possibly getting hurt. Jay takes the ice pack from Burgess, offering her a smile of gratitude before holding it to the back of his shoulder, "It's minor sarg," he downplays the tension located in the back of his shoulder, causing the whole arm to feel strained by what he's pretty sure is a pulled muscle, he doesn't even know how he did this by falling backwards, but whatever, "it's just a pulled muscle. I don't even need a doctor for it. It's honestly nothing a little massage wouldn't fix."

"…then take the day off and go get that massage."

* * *

It was too last minute to fit him in on the same day so he had to end up taking two days off from work. And he wasn't happy about it. He was grumpier than usual and when he walked into the spa, the bell dinging above his head to alert the staff of an arrival, his arms crossed over his chest and he gave off clear vibes of annoyance. He was ready for this to be over and the second his masseuse relieved his body of the pain; he was going back to work. Day off or not, he had no other way he wanted to spend his time. Life was boring; work was the only thing that kept his interesting.

"Hi," the receptionist rose from her seat behind the high desk in the middle of the lobby, "do you have an appointment," he doesn't say a word; he simply nods, "then can you come sign in?"

Jay walks over, grabbing the pen connected by a string to the clipboard to ensure no one stole it, and he used it to sign his name and check-in time, "What's your last name?"

"Halstead," he mutters. He has no interest in being here. He couldn't make it more obvious if he tried. The receptionist turns back to the computer, her long nails pressing against the keyboard.

"Alright, you're all checked in. You'll be with Erin Lindsay. You can take a seat," she nods towards the line of couches near the floor to ceiling windows, "and she'll be out to get you."

He wasn't the only one here. It was people already sitting, some for massages and others for the other services the spa offered. He was sitting up straight, legs open and hands clasped and dangling between them and all he could do was stare at the clock. As time passed, the people around him were called back and by the time his name was eventually called, he was almost ready to just call it quits, say screw this appointment and head in to work. He rose to his feet, fully prepared to give his masseuse a piece of his mind for having him wait for so long when he saw her.

Erin, as her nametag reminds him, the absolute girl of his dreams if him going speechless is any sign of it. He would call it love at first sight, -if he believed in it. He's never seen someone as gorgeous as her. She's beautiful. And her beauty, his thoughts are interrupted when she speaks to him, "Hi Mr. Halstead, sorry for calling you back late, this day of mine hasn't been the greatest," she chuckles dryly and suddenly he's mesmerized by not only her beauty but her voice. She waves for him to follow her and now all he can focus on is the way she walks and how the casual sway of her hips is starting to make his body uncomfortably stiff.

"Mr. Halstead," he blinks into focus when the door is shut behind them, "I said can you tell me a little about what brought you here. Are there any specific areas causing you problems?"

He blinks at her, "Um," he tries to formulate his thoughts, "I pulled a muscle here," he reaches to clench his hand around his shoulder, "and I got a little hurt on the job, a bit of pain in my leg too. Anything you could do would be greatly appreciated."

"We'll see what I can do about that. Keep on your boxers or briefs, whichever you're wearing and change into the robe," she points towards the robe on the hanger, "I'll step out and be back in five minutes. If you need me before then, just press that button."

* * *

Jay doesn't know if it's the massage, if it's her or if it's a combination of the two that makes this the best massage he's ever had in life. It's actually the only massage but if he's guaranteed to be blessed by the hands of Erin Lindsay, he'd definitely come back. She applies the right amount of pressure to every part of him. He's never been this relaxed; he's never been this comfortable at doing absolutely nothing. He could feel her hands slide down his bare back, kneading the flesh, working out the kinks and relieving him of tension he didn't even know he was holding there.

"How does that feel?"

"G-good," he moans. His eyes are closed. And he's happy she can't see his face right now because he's pretty sure his cheeks are flushed red. Her hands move in deep, circular motions as she works from the back of his shoulders, down his back, his calves and even his ankles. This might have to be a regular thing. The long, flowing strokes her hands do in the direction of the tension has his body coming alive in more ways than he's comfortable with but at least he's lying on his stomach, at least she can't see what her hands are doing to him.

Erin continues to knead his flesh, working the magic her fingertips have granted her ever since she was certified. She smiles at the freckles sprinkled around his back, using them as a map of exploration in her quest to reduce his muscle tension and relieve him of all strain and spasms. She observes as his body reacts to her touch, taking in the areas that need a little more attention. She rolls her knuckles, smirking to herself when she hears his moan of appreciation. She takes a small step back, pulling her hands off his warm skin and hearing a sigh of disappointment at the loss of touch, "Can you roll over onto your back?" His head springs up.

"I can't…" he whispers. And she tilts her head in confusion.

"What do you mean you can't? Yes, you can. Just roll over." She chuckles.

"No, I-I can't," his head looks down and suddenly she gets it. And her soft chuckle stops. She doesn't want him to be embarrassed and he might take her laughing the wrong way.

He managed to hide his bulge for as long as possible but now he has to roll over onto his back, practically exposing himself -even though he's wearing briefs- to a woman that he has a crush on.

It's the honest truth; he has a crush on this woman. She's gorgeous. Even a blind man can see that.

"It's honestly no big deal," she rubs his shoulder in reassurance, "it happens more often than you would believe," she nudges him to roll, "you don't need to be embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed," he scoffs.

"Yeah," she says in disbelief, "then roll over."

And he does. He rolls over onto his back and although his manhood is hidden beneath the fabric of his briefs, she can still make out the bulge, "I'm not embarrassed. I just didn't want you to be." She blushes.

* * *

For majority of the massage, she tried to ignore it. She tried to move her hands anywhere but there, at the bulge, at the sight of his arousal but that was easier said than done. And him, he was trying to think of puppies, maybe stepping on a nail or catching food poisoning but nothing was working. The temptation of her hands kneading his flesh was too strong to overpower with simple thoughts.

He covers his face with his hands. And she notices, quirking a brow in confusion, "Everything okay?" He drops his hands, bites his bottom lip and simply nods as her hands make their way to the bruise on his leg. Just a few inches up and over and she'd be there, she'd be right where he wants her. Erin tries to ignore it, staring up at the ceiling as she does the work she's paid to do. This isn't that type of massage but the way he's now staring at her, has her willing to throw caution to the wind. It's hard to overlook it. It's there. It's big. It's obvious. And she moves her hands, kneading flesh, rolling her knuckles, working tension out of his muscular legs and the entire time his eyes are closed and he's trying to hold back a moan.

It's not the massage. It's her. He's pretty sure if anyone else gave him a massage, his body wouldn't react like this. His mind wouldn't be scattered. His hardened persona that he wears out in public, especially at work, wouldn't be slipping away. It was her. It was something about her. And the moan he's been struggling to hold back, he accidentally let slip and it was loud and now maybe it's his turn to be embarrassed when her hands pull away from his body.

"I'm sorry," he's quick to apologize.

"You have no reason to apologize," she's quick to reassure.

And now he's sitting up on the massage table, eyes averting from her to the growing bulge in his briefs. It was no getting rid of it. His massage may have to be cut short.

"I should go," he whispers disappointedly.

"Your time isn't up though."

"This," he waves his hand over his junk, "is kind of getting in the way. And I keep trying to get rid of it. It was useless. And oh my gosh, why am I even talking about this with you?"

She sets her hand down on his thigh, "Hey," she moves closer, "it's okay. Seriously." He knows she's only telling him that to make him feel better. But, he appreciates the gesture.

"Ms. Lindsay-"

"Please call me Erin."

"…only if you call me Jay."

She grins and nods her head.

"Erin," he starts again, "for both of our benefit, it's probably best if I get dress and leave," she nods and he does too yet neither one of them move, "I know my session still has more time left but it's probably good if we cut it short," and once again both of them nod yet neither of them move, "maybe I can reschedule for another massage, maybe with someone else," this time neither one of them nod but both of them act.

No one knows who made the first move. All they know is her lips and his lips join in such a steamy kiss it leaves them delirious. He wants more. And he goes for it. And she lets him. She wants just as much. Eyes closed, hands wandering, moaning and panting as the sexual tension builds up in the room and she knows she'll never be able to perform another massage in here. She'll need another room, another table, because she'll always think about this, about how he knows the right way to touch her, how his rough callused hands feel against her body as he pulls at the clothes that's currently blocking him from the view he craves to see.

He assists her in stripping from her uniform. And she's just as beautiful as predicted. He pulls her on top of him, hands holding onto her thin waist. Gentle bites of the lips, breath mixing, tongues battling for dominance and she can feel him maneuvering his briefs down his legs before kicking them off somewhere in the far corner of the room. He's kissing her neck, determined to leave a mark there to remind her of this moment. She's clawing at his back, knowing the crescent shape imprint her nails leave in his flesh will serve as his own reminder. She's dragging herself against him and if she didn't stop soon, this'll be how the two of them find completion, "I need you," he pushes upwards to show her just how much she was needed. And he needed her bad; he was solid as a rock.

The thought of having him inside of her fills her with excitement. She's never done something like this and neither has he yet here they are, lining themselves up until she drops down, mouth dropping open the second he fills her. She kisses him hungrily, running a hand over his cheek, swallowing the groan he lets out when she swivels her hips.

This is her place of employment, her source of income and yet that is the furthest thing from her mind as she quickens the pace of her hips, up and down and up and down until her knees tire and he takes charge, flipping her over until she's on her back and he's above her, not once accidentally falling out of her which is a skill in and of itself and it's his turn to take charge, pumping into her after throwing her leg over his shoulder to hit her deeper than he's ever hit anyone.

And if it wasn't for his lips currently pressed against hers then she would have screamed and inevitably been caught but he saw it coming in time, he saw her release approaching and his lips were on hers in less than a second, kissing and swallowing the moan of pleasure as her climax hit, sending shockwaves through her body which naturally sent him spirally next, speeding up until he's writhing above her, shooting his release into her welcoming body. He falls forward, exhausted, his limbs lost any semblance of strength and he doesn't have it in him to move. And she doesn't have it in her to make him. She wraps her arms around him, holding him to her, their hearts beating frantically against the other's chest and the silence in the room is palpable, it's only broken when he decides to whisper, "Erin."

He doesn't do this.

"Can I have your number and maybe call you sometime?"

Yet here he is, doing this.

He's still on top of her, reaching for his phone to hand to her, smiling so hard and goofily that she can't refuse him and she just as happily -dimples on full display- types in her number.

* * *

Halstead sets his phone down after responding to her last message. He's been distracted lately, and it was all with good reason if you asked his opinion. It was her; it was Erin. She was the one distraction he couldn't shake; she was the one person out of a history of coming across people that managed to pull his mind away from work. And he doesn't get it, seriously, he doesn't get it.

Family functions, he's always thinking about the work that he could be doing. Blind dates, he's thinking about the cases that are still open, sitting on his desk, waiting to be solved. The rare occasion that he actually goes out for drinks with his coworkers, he's talking about work. Through and through, he's a workaholic, a man that compulsively works long hours and harder than anyone else in the unit. It makes him feel good. And in all his years on the force, he's never had something or met someone that was worth putting before work. At least not until now…

"Who is on the phone that has you so distracted?" Dawson appears behind him the second his phone buzzes against his desk. Jay quickly flips his phone over. And it only serves to make his partner more sickeningly enthusiastic about getting down to the truth and finding out just what had his partner so distracted over the last week, "Seriously man, who is she?"

"Who says it's a she?"

Dawson scoffs. Were they really about to play this game?

"Come on," he nudges his partner's shoulder, "tell me about her. She has you walking into this dark place early in the morning with a smile on your face. And I mean a genuine smile, none of that fake stuff you typically wear 24/7. So, who is she? Where'd you meet her?"

Jay doesn't respond to Dawson; however, he does respond to Erin. He lifts his phone, turning in his chair slightly to ensure his partner couldn't read the message from over his shoulder. He's been texting her since he met her over a week ago. His mood has been elevated for over a week now. His phone always sits on his desk, face down, versus being in his top desk drawer like it used to always be before he met her. It's obvious changes so of course a room full of detectives would pick up on it, "Fine," Dawson shrugs, smirking deviously, "you don't have to tell me about her, but I don't have to know anything about her to know I like her for you. In all the years I've known you, I've never seen that kind of smile on your face," Jay rolls his eyes, he doesn't need his friend getting all sentimental, "and if she can bring that kind of happiness to your life just by texting you then I know she's good for you." He squeezes his friend on the shoulder before heading back to his desk.

"He texting his girl?" Ruzek asks the second Dawson sits down.

And Jay can clearly hear him; he doesn't have the capacity to whisper apparently, "Shouldn't you all be focusing on something else more important, like our current case?"

"Shouldn't you be doing the same thing?

"I am," Jay sets his phone in his lap to hide it, "I have the file opened right in front of me."

"…yeah," Ruzek crosses his arms, "but you haven't read a word in it. Your eyes are too distracted by whatever words your girlfriend's texting you on your phone."

"Halstead has a girlfriend," Burgess enters the room, coffee mug held in her hand.

"No," he retorts.

"Yes," Dawson corrects.

"Ooooo where'd you meet her?" Burgess takes a seat at her desk situated across from his, "what does she do for a living? What's her name? How does she look? When will we meet her?"

Dawson shakes his head, "I already tried Kim. He's tight lipped about her."

"Awwwwwwww," she covers her heart with her hand, "that's so sweet."

"Can we at least get a name?"

Jay swivels his chair around to face his partner, "Why do you want to know about her so badly?"

"…because this woman has to be out of this world if she has you thinking about her at work."

"If I give you her name, will you leave me alone about her? We're…friends," he downplays a relationship that isn't defined _yet_, "you guys are acting like a bunch of school children, gossiping, I'm pretty sure your lives aren't that boring that you have to invest in mine."

His words seem to settle in. It was the end of the discussion. He wasn't giving out any information in regards to Erin because for right now he wants to protect the unchartered territories of an undefined relationship. It has the potential to be something great and he wouldn't have the comments or opinions of his team cloud his judgment. He wants to make sure he's in this because he wants to be in this, not because they think it's what's best for him. For the rest of the day, no one asked anymore questions and if any of them saw Jay step away to text or make a call to her, he wasn't teased about it, they simply smiled in his direction and kept on working.

* * *

"What did you think of the movie overall?" Jay wonders, pushing the exit door open for her to leave the theater. He's right behind her. Then he's right at her side as she contemplates.

"It was good."

He smiles, eyes cast down, "You hated it."

And this makes her laugh, "I didn't say that. I think it was good; it had the potential to be better."

It had been two weeks since the day they met for their schedules to sync up to finally find the free time to go out, to have that first date to see if there was anything else there besides sexual attraction.

She wanted him to pick the movie but with work he doesn't really keep up with pop culture so he chose one at random. He paid for the tickets. She tried to pay for the popcorn but he beat her to it and the cashier took his credit card instead of hers.

"What did you think of the movie?"

His arm occasionally brushes against hers as they walk past their cars, continuing down the sidewalk in the direction of a park because neither one of them wanted the night to end so soon.

"It was horrible," he's much blunter than her, she thinks.

"It had its moments but it wasn't completely horrible."

"It was supposed to be a comedy movie. We only laughed like three times."

"…and those three times were the moments that didn't make the movie entirely horrible. If we didn't laugh at all then I wouldn't be defending it because trust me there are movies out there claiming to be comedies when I watched the whole thing without cracking a smile."

He finds her funny. He needed something like that in his life. A dull life of routine: wake up, eat, get ready, go to work, eat, come home, eat and then go to bed. It gets boring. And he's tried to throw in some type of spontaneity but he was never good at it. Then when his brother tries to spruce up his life and set him up on a date, they never click and he tries to make excuses to leave the date before it ever truly starts. This though, this is different. She is different. And he likes her, a lot, more than he's ever liked anyone he's ever dated.

He intertwines his hand with hers, half expecting her to reject him, but when she doesn't, he couldn't help but feel like he's accomplished something major. He wants to do this again, see her again. He doesn't want this to be the end. And based on the smile never leaving her face since they left the movies, he has a feeling that she might want the same thing.

"It's peaceful out here," she takes a seat at the empty bench in the park they found. He sits next to her, arm going behind her to rest against the top of the seat.

Neither one of them say anything when his hand rests upon her shoulder. And neither one of them question it when her head turns to rest upon his arm. It's a pond in front of them, lit up by the street lamps surrounding it. She's only been here once. He's only been here during the daytime. Neither of them was ever here long enough to admire the view, "It's beautiful."

"It's so calm and quiet," he adds.

"So Jay," Erin lifts her head off his shoulder to shift slightly to the side to face him, "tell me about yourself." And he does; he tells her about his time in the military, his mother dying of cancer, his brother that's a doctor, his father that's a recovering alcoholic. He tells her about his job, about the few friends he actually has and how content he's just been with his routine life. He's surprised to find himself telling her things that his family doesn't know, that his own partner doesn't know and she doesn't have to ask twice or pick and prod through his words to get a better understanding because he honestly doesn't even mind expanding on it.

"…and what about you?" He follows-up. And she doesn't hold back either. She doesn't have much family, the only living relative that she knows of is her estranged mother that she hasn't spoken to in five years. She has a friend, a close one, with a past jaded with misfortune. She talks about bouncing around between foster homes when her mother lost custody of her, but Bunny Fletcher never gave up on seeing her daughter until adult Erin, much older and wiser, decided to cut the strings. Jay respected that. So much. She tells him about the many jobs she held in the past before finally deciding to find something permanent, using her savings for school to become certified and he's happy for that piece of her story more than anything.

"Just think if you didn't decide to become a certified masseuse or I didn't decide to leave the military and join law enforcement, we might have never met each other."

Erin slowly rocks her head, side to side, tossing around his words before looking up to meet his eyes, shaking her head in disagreement, "No," and that takes him by surprise, at least until she explains what she's thinking, "they always say it's something about fate. We would have met each other anyway, regardless of my career choice or yours."

He chooses to believe that too.

There's no way to prove her wrong. And he likes her way of thinking better than his own.

Erin stares up at the night sky, enjoying his presence even if they're not talking. It's just sitting next to him, his body heat keeping her warm, "You know, I'm honestly surprised you haven't made a move or asked me to come back to your place."

"Would you have liked me to?"

She shrugs, feeling the pressure be placed at her feet versus his, "I don't know. I wouldn't say no if you did but I appreciate the fact that you didn't. I hope that makes sense."

"It does and I uh," he reaches behind him to scratch at the back of his neck as he shifts his body slightly to face her, "I'm not used to doing this so just bear with me," she nods even though she doesn't know where this is going, "I really like you," and now she's smiling, "and I hope I haven't been out of the dating game too long because I'm getting the feeling that you really like me too," and now she's nodding, she doesn't want him to think for a second that the feeling isn't mutual, "great," he reaches out for her hand, taking hold of both of them, "I never met someone like you. And that's one of the biggest compliments I could ever give to a person," he smiles when he sees her smile harder, "and I hope I make you feel the way that you make me feel, more alive, comfortable, happy," and as he continues to name adjectives, she's nodding along in full agreement, "I haven't laughed this much in a long time and it would be stupid of me not to ask you out again. I want more with you…as much as you're willing to offer. And I hope you want the same."

She's quick when she rises up, throwing one leg over his lap to straddle him. Her lips are on his in seconds and he doesn't need a verbal agreement because this physical one is loud enough.

* * *

There was something about the way she looked wearing the safety goggles and the headphone-style ear protection as she stood, holding the gun in her hands, pointed downward, "Always keep it aimed down until you're ready to use it," he advises her, "and you want to make sure you treat every firearm as if it were loaded. It's sensitive. It can end a life."

She can feel him standing directly behind her. His hands placed gently on her hips as he instructs her on what to do, "Raise it and aim it at your target," he says after double checking that the safety is off, "you never want to point at anything you do not intend to shoot. Now go for it."

The bullet flies through the air after being shot from the weapon. It doesn't land in the center of the target but she's proud of herself because it had at least hit the target. She shoots again as Jay goes to his station, adjusting the protective headphones around his ears, pushing the goggles closer to his eyes before grabbing his assigned weapon. He flicks off the safety, raising it up, aiming and shooting off a round so naturally that it makes Erin stop shooting in order to watch him.

He hits the buzzer, wanting his target paper to come closer so he can check his progress.

"That's pretty hot," she smiles, when he holds up his target paper, showcasing the final result. She sets the weapon down and hits the buzzer connected to her lane.

He examines hers, smiles and chuckles, "…and that's even hotter."

"Oh please," she rolls her eyes, "I just need a little more practice and then I'll have this whole shooting thing down. I don't give up easily."

"I have no doubt about that."

Erin meets his eyes and, in those eyes, she sees him, truly sees him and it's amazing how connected she's managed to feel towards him in a month. A man truly after her own heart, "Come on," Jay extends his hand, wiggling his fingers hinting for her to grab them, "let's get out of here." She doesn't hesitate, she doesn't have to think about it, her hand is intertwined with his in seconds.

* * *

"I see Nadia," Erin waves her hand, motioning for her friend to come over. Jay keeps his arm wrapped around her waist, body stiffening at the thought of meeting someone new, "Hey!" She hugs her friend, squeezing her as she rocks side to side, "I have someone I want you to meet."

"I'm Jay," he extends his free hand. His other hand never once disconnects from his girlfriend.

Nadia shakes his hand, "I know exactly who you are…you're the man that contributed to the permanent smile on my friend's face."

Erin turns her head away when she feels her cheeks redden. She's blushing hard. And Jay isn't going to let her live this down.

"It's only fair. She's done the same for me."

Now Erin is turning to look at him, smiling, absolutely caught off guard by his words. She expected for him to jokingly tease her but like always he keeps her on her toes, both figuratively and literally, as she rises to the tips of her toes to meet his lips.

Interrupting their kiss that was slowly progressing to be a little more affectionate than the public needed to see, Nadia rolls her eyes, "don't be that sickeningly sweet couple," she leads them towards the table she was settled at, "nobody likes the sickeningly sweet couple."

"I beg to differ," Erin retorts. She sticks her tongue out at Nadia, teasing her when Jay pulls out her seat and pushes her in before taking a seat next to her.

* * *

Erin pressed the brakes on the bicycle when they reached the intersection. He was already there, a bit more athletic than she is, but that didn't mean she was lagging far behind.

"You're probably going to whip me into the perfect shape," she joked, chuckling to let him know she wasn't serious, "your stamina is out of this world." They just rode uphill and he's perfectly fine. No sweat. No gasping for breath. No aching legs. He's fine.

"You're already the perfect shape," he winks just as the pedestrian symbol lights up, granting them the right to cross the street, "I told you to pick the next date." He hops off the bike to walk it across the street. She does the same, following right beside him.

"I chose the one before this one. It was your turn."

"We don't have to take turns. We can choose things we both mutually like to do."

"Okay," she nods, "we're even then. I took you to that paint and sip a few days ago that you absolutely despised and now you're taking me out for a torturous bike ride around the city."

"…not the whole city. I can't do the whole city."

"I don't think it's human to be able to ride a bike around the whole city."

"I'm pretty sure there are people in this world that can do it," he hops back on the bike, waiting for her to do the same on hers, "after all cycling is a professional sport."

"…and apparently it's one you should have taken up."

"When I was a kid, yeah, I considered it, but professionally, I'd lose every single time, I'm nowhere near fit enough."

"Not fit enough," Erin repeats that last part, "after what I've seen, I kind of find that hard to believe," she doesn't wait around for his response, instead she takes advantage of him being distracted, and kicks off, cycling down the next hill, hoping to reach the bottom before he catches up and passes her.

* * *

"Promise me you won't break up with me after meeting them," Jay sounds desperate, he sounds as if he actually believes she'll actually leave him after being introduced to his coworkers.

"I don't think you'll be able to get rid of me that easily," she reassured him, running her hand up and down his arm, "I'm in this for the long haul."

He takes her word for it. Opening up the door to Molly's bar, his hand settles on her lower back as he guides her in. And before the door shuts behind him, his name is already being called, "Halstead!"

"It's about time the two of you showed up," it's Burgess that approaches them; her eyes are focused on Erin the entire time, "Hi, I'm Kim. I work with Jay."

"Erin," she extends her hand.

And Kim shakes it, "It's nice to meet you. You don't know how long we've been dying to meet you. Jay here," she purposely doesn't look at him because she knows he's irritated, "has been keeping you a secret and hiding you from us."

Erin looks up at him to see if her words were true, "I'm already ready to go," he whispers, "You?"

"…we can at least stay for a drink or two."

"My kind of girl," Ruzek announces, throwing his arm around her shoulders as if they were longtime friends, "What'll you have? Oh, by the way I'm Adam."

Jay knocks Ruzek's arm from around her shoulder, instead replacing it with his own, "This is Erin and," he looks down to meet her eyes, reading her expression to see what she would prefer, "you can get us two beers, I'm assuming you're paying."

"Actually, I am," Dawson raises his hand just as they get to the bar, "Hi Erin, I'm Antonio."

"I've heard a lot about you," Erin extends her hand.

"You told her about him, but not us," Kim sounds offended.

"I've heard a lot about you as well," Dawson shakes her hand.

Ruzek slaps Halstead's shoulder, "You told him about her but said nothing to us."

"He's my partner," Jay says to quickly to defend himself, "He constantly kept asking, especially in the car during shift, it got to be too much."

Dawson places an order with his sister for two beers and he catches them when they're slid down the bar top. Jay nods for Erin to take the empty seat beside his partner; he opts to lean against the bar, nursing his beer in one hand as his arm holds up his weight on the bar with the other. He watches as his coworkers make her feel welcomed. She fits right in. And he knows he typically didn't refer to anyone of them besides Dawson as an actual friend but the way they are with Erin, how they make her laugh, offer to get her refills, share stories -some of which could have stayed a secret- made him happy that he decided to allow those two worlds to bridge. He can't help but to kiss her forehead and if any of his coworkers notice and tease him about it the next day, he doesn't care, it was all worth it.

* * *

Halstead stares down at the opened case file, stacked high with so many key points of their current case yet he can't figure it out. So much evidence yet he can't piece it together. This is a tough case and the Intelligence team was thrown in the middle of it, being brought in by another specialty unit because they needed help in closing it. He rubs his hand against the back of his neck, working out the tension and the cramping that comes from looking down all day, reading each page more than once in the hopes that something will jump out at him.

"Babe," he looks up probably for the first time in over an hour; he sees her, dressed in only his button-up shirt, leaning against the threshold of his bedroom door, "any luck?"

"No," he sits back, throwing his head back and sighs frustrated, "and the worst part is if we can't solve this case, it will run cold. I hate cold cases because every case deserves to be solved."

Erin knows there's nothing she can say to make him feel better. She pushes herself off the wall and walks over, bare feet padding against his carpet, "…maybe if you talk it out, I'm a good ear to listen and a different perspective is always good."

"It's an active case. I'm not supposed to talk to civilians about it."

She moves behind him, her hands finding his shoulders, "…then talk to yourself about it." He has a weakness when it comes to her hands and her supplying him with his own personal massage. And as he talks aloud, moans of pleasure and gratitude escaping him every few seconds, he keeps an ear open for her commentary, listening and answering when she poses questions, commenting when she gives an opinion and when she makes an offhanded statement, he shoots up when it unexpectedly pieces everything together. She jumps back at his sudden movement, turning around to reach over the couch to grab her face, "That's it," he affirms, pressing his lips against hers in a chaste kiss, "that's it," he says again, pecking her lips once more, "you're fucking amazing," her heated cheeks redden beneath his hands, "just another reason why I fucking love you."

Now it's her turn to reach for him, tugging the fabric of his shirt to bring him closer, to seal her lips against his more passionately than any of their previous kisses, "I love you too," not only does he hear the magical words but he feels her say them too, he feels her lips move against his, whispering her love for him, "I know this is asking a lot," she moves her lips to his jawline, the back of the couch in the way of her flushing her body against his the way that she currently wants to, "but it's your day off, you just told me that you love me, I feel the same and I would really like to celebrate that with my boyfriend."

Jay doesn't say anything. He silently watches as her hand holds his chin and her lips pepper two kisses against his before releasing him from her hold, abandoning the skin to skin contact she had with him until he reaches over the couch, grabbing her hips and using his strength to lift her up and bring her over. Erin yelps, the sudden movement catching her off guard but she adapts quickly, wrapping her legs around his waist, his hands moving to clench around her bare legs, holding her up high enough for her to caress his face and move her lips to his, "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

Jay rolls her over and she giggles when he ends up on top of her. Their naked bodies pressed warmly against each other as he brings his mouth down to hers, "Marry me."

"Are you asking or telling me?"

"…a little of both," he confidently answers.

His confidence, it's one of the things she loves the most about him.

Erin runs her hand through his hair, over and over again before stopping her hand at the back and nudging his face downwards, his lips towards her lips, "So what do you say?" He asks just as their kiss came to an end; he still lies above her, trapping her body beneath his.

"You're serious," he nods, and her hand resumes running through his hair, "I thought you were joking," he buries his face in the crook of her neck, "we've only known each other for six months," she giggles -actually giggles- when she feels him nuzzle his face closer, "baby six months!"

"I am in love with you," he lifts his head to say, "if you want to wait, we can wait, but I want to marry you and that won't ever change. Six months, a year, five years, whatever, it won't change."

She moves her hands to hold his face, to keep it still above her so she can peer into his eyes without him trying to look away, "If you're serious-"

"I'm serious," he interrupts, "I'm always serious when it comes to you," his lips feel magnetically drawn to that one spot on her neck, it's something about that spot and the way her mouth falls open and her eyes roll to the back of her head when his mouth latches onto it.

"You already know what my answer is going to be," she whispers, opening her legs to adjust better to his body laying above hers, "but if you want me to say it-"

He moves to bend his knees, upper body still relaxed against hers, his chest pressed against her bosom, face still nuzzled into the crook of her neck and his hardening bulge is comforted by her warm center, "I want you to say it." He lifts his head to look into her eyes, to hold her gaze.

"…then I'll say it, yes," her hands cup his face, "of course I'll marry you, Jay," she presses her lips against his just as he pushes into her, sealing their engagement with an act of love.

* * *

Jay walks into the living room, cup of coffee in hand while his other hand holds up his baggy sweatpants to stop them from falling any lower. He sees Erin sitting, legs crisscrossed on the carpet with an opened shoebox in front of her and an empty cup of coffee beside her, "What's that you're looking at?"

She looks up, picture held securely in her hand as if she was caught doing something she had no business doing, "Um, I just got distracted," she shuts her eyes when he bends over to kiss her forehead, "I found this in my closet," they're at her apartment and he's supposed to be helping her pack but it seems all he's doing is drinking her coffee, "I haven't seen this box in years."

Halstead hands her his cup of coffee to hold as he lowers himself to take a seat next to her, "Let me see," she hands him the photo first then his cup of coffee, "I would recognize those dimples anywhere," it was a picture of young Erin, "but who's the woman smiling next to you?"

"…my mom."

He's never seen a picture of her. He just knows that Erin hasn't spoken to her mom in five years.

"I know you haven't talked to her but do you think you'll invite her to the wedding?"

Erin scoffs, chuckling to herself, "Even if I did, she wouldn't be able to make it," she watches him bring the cup of coffee to his lips, quirking a brow in confusion at her vague reply, "my mom's in prison, Jay. She'll be there for awhile."

"I'm sorry."

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for," she takes the photo to place back inside of the box, "she did the crime; she should do the time."

"…and when does she get out?"

"She has another five years."

"Do you intend to talk to her when she's released?"

"Nope…" Erin shuts the shoebox, sealing the lid before rising to her feet, "she stole from me, played a part in someone's death and then tried to entangle me in her mess to help her cover it up."

Halstead is left speechless as she goes to resume packing up her apartment.

* * *

Halstead brushes her hair over her shoulder, "It's going to be fine." He kisses her forehead then turns to ring the doorbell, "Just trust me."

The door swings open, Will stands in from of them, waving them inside only to shut the door behind them, "You guys are right on time. The food just finished."

"Cool," Jay takes off his jacket and hangs it in the hall closet, "Who cooked?"

"Dad," Will extends his hand to take Erin's jacket to hang it up, "he made a roast. Oh, I'm being rude," he closes the closet after hanging up her coat, "I'm Will, this loser's brother."

Erin shakes his hand after introducing herself. She rubs her hands together to warm them up as she scans the pictures hanging on the walls. It's an endless number of photos of the Halstead family and she finds herself taking her time to look at each one while Jay and Will caught up. She looked at his baby photos, so cute and adorable and she starts to wonder about the children that she'll eventually have with him, a large part of her hopes they come out the spitting image of their father. She feels someone approach her and based on the scent of the cologne, she knows it's Jay, "I was probably around seven or eight months in that photo," he's held in a woman's arms, "that's my mom, beautiful, isn't she?"

"Gorgeous," Erin adds.

"That's Will," he points to the next picture, "obviously I'm the brother that got all the good looks."

"…obviously," Erin jokes, shaking her head at his conviction.

His arm wraps around her waist, guiding her further down the hallway, explaining and telling stories behind every picture that has his face in it. Every part of her loves it. A small part of her is envious of it. The very few childhood photos she owns are in a shoebox up on a shelf in their closet. They never found a home on a wall. Her mother didn't even care to have them framed.

"You're thinking about your mother." He doesn't phrase it as a question; he simply points out the obvious. He knows her enough to know that look behind her eye, "We should, um, frame the pictures that you have and hang them up. That's only if you want to though…"

And he continues to know the right thing to say, "I think that would be nice," she turns to face him and suddenly in her peripheral vision, she notices Will had been standing with them the whole time, looking at the photos alongside them.

The three of them get to the end of the hallway, the end of the row of pictures and enter the kitchen, finding Patrick Halstead setting plates down, "Will, bring the food to the table," he doesn't bother to look their way but Will does do as his father requests, "the food is still hot so be careful."

"Dad," Jay steps forward, hand finding her lower back for moral support, "I want you to meet my fiancée," his dad already knew she was coming; this whole dinner was set up just for them to meet the love of his life. His dad wipes his hands on a dishrag before extending one, "I'm Patrick, and you must be Erin," she shakes his hand, "I will say it would have been nice to meet you sooner. One second my son is single and angry with the world and the next second he's engaged."

"I wasn't angry with the world," Jay rolls his eyes.

And Patrick simply waves off his son's words, "Help yourself to a seat, I'll go help Will."

Erin takes the seat right beside her fiancé. She feels him take a hold of her hand under the table, his thumb rubbing against the back of her hand to offer her comfort. This whole introduction could have been worse. His brother seemed to like her. And it was still too early to know whether or not his dad did but based on the way he keeps running his thumb up and down the back of her hand to provide a silent support for her makes her nervous. He knows his dad better than her. Maybe the introduction was a sign that things were about to go downhill?

"So Erin," after the food is brought to the table and the plates are made, Patrick decides to break the awkward silence, "what do you do for a living?"

Erin swallows a bite of mashed potatoes before setting her fork down, "I'm a uh," she grabs a napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth, "I'm a massage therapist."

"…and if I'm not mistaken that's how you met my boy, right?"

"Yes."

"You typically date your clients? Does that sort of thing happen on the regular?"

"Dad," Jay says, the tone of his voice warning his father, "don't start this. Please."

"I'm just trying to get to know my future daughter-in-law. Is there something wrong with that?"

Will cuts in, managing to change the subject from Erin to sports, discussing which team he's rooting for at the next game. It does the job of distracting Patrick for at least another ten minutes before she's suddenly the topic of conversation again, "Jay tells me he met your friend."

She looks over at Jay before looking back at his father, "Yes…a few months ago."

"She introduces you to her friend way before you actually introduce her to your family," that remark was directed towards Jay. However, her fiancé doesn't look ashamed about it, "Erin," she gulps down the remaining sips in her glass of wine before sitting the glass back down, "How did your parents take it when they found out how fast the two of you are moving in your relationship?"

"My parents don't know."

"I can imagine how unhappy they'll be when they find out you waited so long to tell them."

Erin shrugs, not really bothered by it, "…not really. They're not currently in the picture."

"Why not?"

"Dad-"

"Jay," his father snaps, glaring in his direction, "stop interrupting, it's rude, I'm trying to get to know Erin here. Now, why aren't your parents in the picture?"

"I don't really know my dad and my mom's away."

"Away where?"

Jay interjects, "That's not really any of your business."

"She's in prison, isn't she?" Patrick bluntly states, "Jay," he turns to his son, eyes pleading with him to listen, "just look at things from my perspective for a second. She meets you and within months you both are engaged to be married. It seems odd. Why rush things?"

"Why wait?" Jay retorts defensively, "I love her. She loves me. I-"

"How do you know though? I mean, hear me out. You haven't dated in years. Every woman your brother and I try to set you up with, it either never made it past a first date or you bailed before the first date even began. You should explore your options and not settle for the first person that gives you an ounce of attention."

"It's more to me and Erin than just settling down with the first attractive woman I date."

"…then what was wrong with the women your brother tried to set you up with? A few of them were doctors. You don't find women like that just anywhere."

Jay shrugs, obviously over this topic of conversation, "They weren't right for me."

"…and she is?"

"Dad-"

"I'm sorry," he says unapologetically; no one believes that half-ass apology, "but I don't think she's good enough for my boy. I'm your dad and I'm always going to be honest with you."

Suddenly losing her appetite, she sits her fork down gently. She could feel Jay release her hand to now hold onto her thigh, squeezing it gently to keep her calm and to keep her in place, "I'm sorry Mr. Halstead, but you don't even know me enough to make such a bold statement."

"I know enough."

"…but you don't," she retorts, "you think you do but you know absolutely nothing about me."

"You told me everything that I need to know."

"Oh, and what's that?" She exclaims in disbelief, "that I'm a massage therapist, my mom's in prison and my dad is out of the picture. How does any of that tell you who I truly am?"

Jay rose to his feet, dropping the napkin onto his empty plate before reaching for Erin's arm. He wanted to intervene before emotions got heated and either she or his father said something that couldn't be walked back. He tugs her up, excusing them to lead her away from the table. He leads her as far away from the dining room as possible, up the stairs, down the hallway and into the master bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him, "Breathe," he says. He knows her well enough to know that she needs to do just that. Breathe.

"What's your dad's problem?"

"He's always been a bitter man, now he's just a bitter old man."

"I've done nothing to him," she's understandably frustrated and she's pacing back and forth in front of him as he sits at the edge of the king-sized bed, "he hardly even knows me."

"I know once he gets to know you, he'll realize just how perfect we are for each other."

"How's he going to realize that when he's already made up his mind? Your father doesn't approve and he's not open-minded enough to change his mind."

"Well," he reaches for the bottom of her shirt, tugging her forward, "it's a good thing we don't need his approval."

"I've been in a relationship where the family doesn't approve of me. It never works out."

"This one will…"

"You don't know that but what I know is how it feels to be without family. I'm going to eventually come between you and your dad. I don't want that for you. I love you too much."

"My dad is going to come between me and my dad. You have nothing to do with that."

"I have everything to do with that."

Silence befalls them. It's quiet enough for the two of them to be able to hear Will and Patrick arguing about her and it makes her feel worse. Not only is she coming between Jay's relationship with him but she's interfering in Will's relationship with his dad as well.

"…maybe I should just leave for you all to talk?" She poses it as a question but it seems she's already made up her mind about it. She has the door open and she's already walking down the hall by the time Jay is catching up to her, tugging at her arm pleadingly before pulling her into the nearest room, -the hallway bathroom.

He closes the door. He turns on the lights. His lips are upon hers before she has the chance to say anything. She kisses him back, giving him just as good as he's giving her. He lifts her up, sitting her on the counter in the bathroom, "You aren't going anywhere," he leaves no room for argument. He moved to stand between her legs that hung off the island and leaned in to kiss her passionately, "you're staying here, with me, right where you belong." He caught her lips with his, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her closer to him. She smiled into the kiss, bringing her hands up to cup his face, holding it against hers as she nibbled and pulled against his bottom lip.

He moves to unbuckle his jeans. And she's kind of turned on by him desperately pulling at her clothes, needing her because the thought of her walking away has his body yearning to be in connection with hers. Her pants drop to the floor just as he moves in closer, lining himself up with her and sliding home with such a familiarity that it just further proves how they were made for each other, "I love you," he whispered into the crook of her neck.

She wraps her arms around him. And she doesn't hold back when he starts to pound into her. Legs wrapping around his hips, his arms wrapping around her waist, he lifts her up and moves her towards the door, pushing her against it, "I love you too." She's proud. They're loud. And she can't believe he's fucking her in his father's home, the house of a man that clearly dislikes her.

Halstead knocks over a few decorations in the hallway bathroom but he's too high on emotion and pleasure to care if something broke. He feels her nails claw into his back. He feels her breath ghost against his neck. He uses his face to nudge her face in his direction, moving his mouth to hers, biting against her bottom lip, pulling it closer, tugging it into his and she surprisingly chuckles because it's something new, it's something she loves and she wants him to do again.

They're too caught up in each other, too caught up in the high of emotion, too caught up in the familiar feeling of one body against the other and he never slows down, he never tires and it's driving her absolutely mad. She shutters. Her body shivers. Her eyes nearly roll into the back of her head when a wave of pleasure washes over her. She would talk but words fail her. And he doesn't let up, he nuzzles his face into the crook of her shoulder, muffling his words as he continues to thrust into her before his body is overcome with pleasure and he releases himself into his home.

"You aren't going anywhere," he lays a soft kiss against her jawline, deeply inhaling her scent, "you're staying right where you belong, Erin, and that's with me."

* * *

Jay decides to get a tattoo; Erin decides to get one too. They go together and make a date out of it. It's such a big step. It's a commitment, but he's already ready to commit vows to her and so is she. So, neither of them hesitates in walking into the tattoo parlor, describing what they want and holding onto the other's hand as the needle buzzes into their skin, giving them a lifelong reminder of their love.

He gets the letter E capitalized and bolded above his heart.

She goes for the letter J capitalized and italicized above her heart, just a few inches above her breast.

Their tattoos aren't huge; they're only a couple inches in size, but the meaning behind the first letter of the other's name tattooed over their heart symbolizes more than any large tattoo could ever. Size didn't matter as long as the meaning was there. Erin stood in front of the mirror, unbuttoning her shirt to peel back the bandage covering her small tattoo, "That's a such a turn on."

"You know if we don't work out, I'm either going to have to move on with someone else that has a J name or cover it up with makeup because can you imagine how awkward it would be to have this be a constant reminder while having sex?"

"I'd rather not imagine that."

Erin chuckles, turning to face him, "Yeah," her hands go to the buttons on his shirt, slowly unbuttoning them to see the tattoo above his heart, "I see what you mean about it being a turn on because I have to admit, _that _is hot," he snatches her wrist, bringing it up to his lips.

"…it's permanent and it kind of means we're stuck with each other."

"There's no one else I'd rather be stuck with…"

* * *

It's a little after two in the morning and Erin finds herself running through the automatic doors of Chicago Med, eyes wide in panic as she looks around for a recognizable face. She can't find anyone so she rushes up to the receptionist desk, tapping against it until she gets the nurse's attention, "Hi, what can I do for you?"

She's perky and way too relaxed to match Erin's rising emotions.

"I'm here to see Jay Halstead. He was shot. Will…I mean Dr. Halstead called me."

"Are you family?"

"I'm his fiancée."

"They're not legally married yet," Patrick makes his presence known, "I wish for you not to share his medical status with her at this second," the nurse looks absolutely confused as to what to do in this situation, "If you were the wife you'd have the rights to make medical decisions on his behalf but until then me as his father has the right. I'm listed as his next of kin."

Erin doesn't bother arguing with his father. Instead she turns to the nurse, pleading with her, "I'm his fiancée, he would want me to know. Trust me on this. Please. You can ask Will!"

"There's no record of Jay granting her permission to be made aware. They aren't legally married. Anyone can come in here and claim they're the fiancée of a patient."

Erin throws up her left hand, pointing towards the ring, "He gave me this."

"Anyone can get a fake ring and put it on their finger. You probably want to take it off soon though, it'll turn your finger green if you leave it on for too long."

"You know I'm his fiancée and you know he would want me to know and he would want me to be in the room with him. He wouldn't want you doing this, trying to keep me away."

"We don't know what he wants right now."

"…and why is that? Is he okay? Can you at least tell me something about his status?"

Patrick sighs, waving the nurse off to continue her tasks for the night, "It's touch and go. These next few hours are the most important," he watches a tear escape her eye and roll down her cheek before dropping from her chin, "me and Will have this under control though," he settles his hand against her shoulder, "you're not needed here. You should go home. Go back to sleep."

Erin brushes his hand off her shoulder, ignoring his grunt of disproval at her rude act. She doesn't care about what he thinks of her. She just cares about Jay. He was hurt on duty. Will had called her, waking her up after getting around two hours of sleep to let her know that Jay had been shot. He didn't have any updates. He was in surgery and no one knew if he would make it. Erin sees Patrick walk away, heading towards the elevator probably to go downstairs to the hospital cafeteria and even though he highly recommended her to go home, she doesn't, instead she drags her feet to the waiting room, plopping down in the uncomfortable seat.

She has no intention of going anywhere, not until she can at least see Jay.

* * *

Erin's head shoots up when she feels someone standing directly in front of her. It's Patrick Halstead and apparently, it's almost four in the morning if the clock hanging on the wall is right. She had fallen asleep and the ache in her neck was proof of how lousy these waiting room chairs truly are, "Yes?"

"Here," he offers her one of the cups of coffees he's holding in his hand.

She cautiously takes it, "Thank you," she brings it up to her lips and while it didn't have enough sugar in it, it was better than nothing.

"What are you still doing here?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she sets the cup of coffee down by her feet, "and I don't care what you have to say about it. I'm not here for you. I'm here for Jay."

Patrick scoffs but he doesn't make any attempt to argue or change her mind. He's too exhausted. He decides to just take the empty seat beside her, finishing off the rest of his coffee and leaning back as he waits for further updates on his son.

* * *

"How is he?" Erin jumps to her feet the second she sees Will. She rushes over, leaving her cold coffee on the ground behind her, "Is he okay? Is he awake? Is he talking?"

"Erin," Will's hands come to rest upon her shoulders, "he's going to be fine. He's too stubborn to let a bullet hole take him out and he wouldn't just leave you like that."

She was relieved to know he was going to be fine but her heart wouldn't stop racing, between the worry and the very little sleep she got in the last couple of hours, she was going to lose her mind if she doesn't see him soon. She needs to see him for herself.

"You actually just missed the rest of his team; they just left."

"How'd they get to see him before me?" She sounds offended but it's just the emotion talking.

"They were with him when he was brought in."

Patrick Halstead rose to his feet, grabbing the coffee cups off the floor and discarding it in the trash bin behind his son, "Can I go back to see him? He's probably asking for me."

"He's actually asking for Erin."

A heartwarming smile breaks upon her face. If she wasn't so scared for Jay, she'd be smug about it. Her body warms up just at the thought of Jay being conscious and talking enough to let his brother know that he wants to see her.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Will waves off his father's worry, "It'll be fine. He's on pain meds but his doctor expects him to make a full recovery in four to six weeks. He'll be out of work for about a month though. He'll absolutely hate it when he finds that part out. Erin," he swoops around to face her, "pleaseeee let me be in the room when you tell him that he can't return to work for at least a month."

Leave it to Will to find humor after such an intense moment.

"I can't make any promises. I just want to see him."

"I'll take you back."

"I'll go too," Patrick stepped forward.

"…only one visitor at a time dad. Erin's his fiancée. She's first."

Patrick would have argued; he was actually prepared and energized for it, but he didn't want to cause a scene. It was way more people floating around the lobby of the hospital than it was at two in the morning. He bows out gracefully, watching as his son led her towards the elevators.

"Your dad absolutely hates my guts."

"I'll try to talk to him."

"It's no point."

"…well," Will nudges her in the side, smiling mischievously, "you don't help your case when he already doesn't like you and you have sex with his son, upstairs in his house," her cheeks redden, turning darker than a tomato, "you guys were loud."

* * *

Erin wanted to crawl in his hospital bed. She wanted to wrap herself around him, hold him tight and never let go but he was too hurt. Jay watched her cautiously approach his bed. His ray of sunshine; just the sight of her puts him on cloud nine. His guardian angel, his reason to fight, his reason to survive, "I'm fine," he cracks a smile, "I'm not going anywhere."

"You almost did," she replied angrily because she's tired and she's worried and he almost died and he has the nerve to lay before her trying to pretend like he doesn't have a bullet wound, "I was sleep Jay and your brother called me at two-something in the morning to tell me to come to the hospital. I didn't get much information because he didn't have a lot of information and then I get here, I try to see you, everyone practically got to see you, but me. Your dad tried to send me home as if I didn't matter, as if losing you wouldn't end me!"

Jay swallows roughly and tries to sit up. His natural instinct is to offer her comfort but he could barely move without flinching. The pain meds did the bare minimum. It must be a low dose.

"Don't move, you might reinjure yourself."

"My dad tried to keep you out of the room. Are you serious?"

"I didn't say that for you to be mad at him. I'm sorry. I have no right to be losing it right now when you're the one in the hospital bed." She moves closer, extending her hand to cup his jaw.

"No, I'm glad you're telling me this. I like when you tell me your thoughts especially now, it helps to take my mind off of this," he doesn't show her the wound but he does wave his hand over the area the bandage covers, "so keep talking."

"When you said you were staying late because you guys got a lead in the case, I didn't expect it to end like this. I didn't know it was going to be some huge shootout. I was sleep while you were getting shot, Jay. It's hard to wrap my mind around that. And then I find out I'm not your emergency contact and I get here and your dad wouldn't even let the nurse tell me anything. I guess dad trumps fiancée, I don't know, but what I do know is I love you so fucking much and it absolutely tore me apart not being able to see you or thinking about how much pain you had to be in. My mind envisioned the worse possible scenario. I thought I was going to lose you."

Jay opened his arms, "Come here."

"I don't want to cause you more pain."

"Erin, come here," he asserts, leaving no room for her to argue. She comes closer, leaning in to his embrace carefully, and he wraps his arms around her tightly, "I'm going to always fight to come home to you. Always. And the second the nurse comes in the room, I'm going to update my emergency contact number," he kisses her forehead, holding his lips there to comfort himself since his girl seems to be the best kind of medicine for him, "and the next time I see my father, remind me to give him a piece of my mind. He has a lot of nerve to try and keep you out of this room."

"It's pointless, let's just let that go. Let's focus on you getting better."

"Just stay here with me right now."

"I have no intention of going anywhere."

* * *

Erin had taken off for the week to look after him. To clean his wounds, to clean him, to sometimes feed him when he felt too stubborn or sore to move his body and get out of bed. She takes care of him as he heals and she doesn't regret a second of it.

"It's almost time for you to take your medication," she rubs his leg before standing up, leaving him resting in their bedroom while she ventures out to the hallway bathroom. Her destination is averted when she hears knocking at the front door, "Coming!"

She tries to get there before they have the opportunity to knock again, possibly disturbing Jay even more than his current wounds. She looks through the peephole, spotting Will and Patrick and if she could pretend neither of them were home, she would but she knows they know she's here and there's no avoiding this, "Hi," plastering a fake smile to her face, she swings the door open.

"Hey Erin," Will greets her, leaning forward to kiss her cheek before letting himself in, "Sorry for not calling first but we hope we're not intruding. Is Jay still up?"

"Yeah, I was actually about to get his meds."

"I can bring them to him."

She turns around, taking her eyes off Patrick for just a split second to address Will, "They're in the medicine cabinet in the hallway bathroom." He nods and he's off, leaving her with her future father-in-law, awkwardly standing in the doorway.

"Are you going to invite me in?"

She simply pushes the door open, hinting for him to step through. It's his first time coming to their place and he doesn't know where to go, "Can you point me in Jay's direction?" She points.

* * *

"Is this how it's going to be as a detective's wife?"

That earns a chuckle out of him. She has her arms wrapped around his waist, guiding him to their bedroom. His stitches had just been removed but he's still sore. And he's a little bit in pain. He won't tell her that though; he doesn't want her to worry.

"What? Me getting shot?"

"Yes, I don't think my heart can take this if it becomes something on the regular."

Jay smiles, quickly kissing her cheek before sitting down on the bed after she pulled the covers back, "It's my first time getting shot and I've been on the force for years. My odds of survival are pretty good. Near perfect if you ask me."

"Near perfect isn't good enough." She lifts his legs and puts them on the bed. Erin holds up the covers and brings it up to his shoulders, "I like taking care of you. I have no problem with that it's just weird for me to see you like this. I mean…you're the guy that's practically good at every sport."

"I'm not good at golf," he jokes.

"I said _practically _good at every sport."

"Knock knock," they overhear his father's voice as he approaches the doorway to their bedroom, "I hope I'm not interrupting. I was just letting you guys know I was about to leave."

Erin looks at Jay, staring down at the design on his shirt in an effort to avoid any confrontation with Patrick. It was for Jay's sake, she kept telling herself. She raises her hand, running it up and down her fiancé's leg, "I'm going to check in on you in an hour or two. You should probably get some rest. It'll be good for you. And by the time you wake up, I'll have dinner ordered." She leans forward to press her lips against his, not noticing the way the constant glare on Patrick's face actually softens for the first time since meeting him, "I love you," she stands up, "Call me if you need anything. And I'm serious Jay, I don't need you reinjuring yourself or setting yourself back."

"Aye captain," he jokingly salutes. She winks her eye and then excuses herself from the room.

Patrick remains standing there, looking at the disappointed expression on his son's face, "What?"

"How long are you going to be an ass?"

"I'm not being an ass. I didn't do anything," he attempts to defend himself.

"Dad, please don't play dumb. You're either glaring or making snide comments. Erin isn't going anywhere and it'll be best for our relationship if you accepted that."

"Why does my dislike of her affect yall's relationship?"

"It doesn't," he retorts bitterly, "when I said our relationship, I meant mine and yours."

* * *

"I'm back to work tomorrow," he's met with the arms of the woman he loves wrapping around him, burying her face in his neck at the sight of him being better, healthy and perfectly fine, "it took more than a month but damn I'm happy to be going back."

She kisses his neck, "Please I beg you, please don't get shot again."

"I hear scars are hot. You got one you can kiss as much as you want now."

"One," she emphasizes, "I don't need anymore."

* * *

Just by being herself, she starts to grow on Patrick Halstead. He sees the way she takes care of his son; he notices how she listens because she actually cares about his opinion and what he has to say, she makes decisions with him in mind and she truly puts Jay first, -just like he puts her first.

When he first learned about her it was when his son called him up to tell him he was engaged. He'd already come to an opinion about her because Jay rarely held back secrets of this magnitude so Patrick immediately wrote it off to her influence rather than his son. But now, as he listens to how she jokes with Will, wrapping his older son around her little finger, he realizes there's something about her, a charm that manages to win the hearts of many.

She loves his son. Isn't that what he wants for him most of all?

"You know what," he suddenly speaks up, catching everyone in the room off guard because he'd been so distracted by the game on the television no one expected to hear a peep from him at least until it was over, "You're not so bad, Erin." Will and Jay's eyes meet across the room.

It's not the apology she was expecting but baby steps. It'll take time and at least it was something, he was warming up to her and for Jay's sake she would be the bigger person and move on.

"Dad," Jay whispers, eyes sending a message to his father, "try again."

"I uh," he clears his throat after shoving his hands into his pockets, "I shouldn't have judged you without getting to know you. Jay is a lucky guy."

"Dad," Jay says again. He wanted his dad to give her an actual apology.

"It's okay babe," Erin reassures him, running her hand up and down his back, "I think your father suffered enough and as the old saying goes, Rome wasn't built in a day. This is a good start."

Patrick looked at her, he really looked at her, eyes opened wide in amazement, "Exactly Erin," he grins, "she gets it Jay, when will you?"

"Don't tell me the two of you are going to start ganging up on me now!"

* * *

"Can you believe that within the same year we met, we also fell in love and are going to get married?" Erin asked as she threaded her fingers through his hair, feeling his scalp relax with every caress of her hand, "and not to mention moving in together, you getting shot and meeting each other's friends?"

Jay lifted his head and raised his brow, his chin resting on the swell of her breasts like it was made for him, like it was the most normal position to be held, "It feels like I've known you forever. It honestly doesn't feel like that short of a time. You've become such a huge part of my life; I don't even know how I got by without you in it."

"All of these strong emotions we've brought out of each other is scary," she admits and he nods in agreement, "we've never experienced anything like it before and many people never get to experience it in their lifetime. We were chosen soulmates for each other. And I knew after you asked me for my number that you were the real deal. I probably would have said yes to your proposal if you did it after a week of dating."

He smiles genuinely, "I probably would have proposed to you after a day if I knew I was guaranteed a yes," he pecks her lips with his own, "I can't wait to start the rest of my life with you," he brings his lips back to hers, kissing her softly, this time leaving them there, leaving them home where they belong.

* * *

It's amazing to him how before he met this woman, he's been all about business, all about work and he carried the title of hardened detective as if it was a badge of honor. He didn't realize that by meeting her, by getting that massage, he'd be opening his heart and mind to be healed, to be loved and accepted by a woman of pure perfection in his eyes. He's a lucky man. A guy that permanently lives on cloud nine every time he wakes up and goes to bed with her lying beside him. And as he watches her walk down the aisle alone, no father or man to walk alongside her, he knows that a lack of family in the past doesn't matter because right now she has him and she's marrying into a family that loves her.

Halstead didn't care about much before her. Some would go so far as to say he could be heartless but the moment she swooped in with the laughter that sounds like music to his ears and dimples that bring a smile to his face every time they appear, he could feel the heart that many tried to deny he possesses, beat erratically in his chest. Damn, he loves this woman. His vows weren't perfect enough; he could have done better even though they managed to bring a tear to her eyes. Her vows moved him, but Erin seemed to always have that gift, the gift of her words, moving people.

"I love you," he mouths to her just as their marriage and unity is announced. She's his one and only. She's the woman he didn't know he was looking for, the woman he didn't know he needed.

"I love you too," she mouths back. Halstead's the luckiest man in the world. He doesn't know what he's done in the past to bring him to this moment, to have the woman of his dreams wear a ring to symbolize their union, to signify her love, trust and loyalty to him. And he's wearing a similar band that represents the same, a band that has their initials a J plus an E engraved in the inside of it because they're forever. Nothing and no one will come between them. It was a fast love, a whirlwind romance that felt like love at first sight. A man that was hellbent on staying to himself, on inevitably ending up alone, ended up finding a woman he looks forward to spending forever and a day with, a woman that makes him smile every single day and a woman that eventually blesses their home with a few kids. He falls deeper in love with her every single day. He remembers how he used to be the first person into work and the last to leave, he remembers work being the number one priority in his life, putting nothing and no one above it and now his priorities have shifted, a deeper relationship with Erin overpowered the one he had with work and every single day he anticipates the second he's off from work just so he can go back home, back to her, back to her open arms that are always waiting for him.


End file.
